


The King of the forest is the Bear

by StarryKnights33



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, My First AO3 Post, Not sure what this will become but hey lets find out together, Please comment I want to talk to you beautiful humans, The Witcher 2 Spoilers, The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-11 09:15:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryKnights33/pseuds/StarryKnights33
Summary: (First fic on here not sure how its going to turn out)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there thank you so much for reading my first work posted on here. I urge you to please leave a comment I really would like to talk to other lifeforms. 
> 
> Pretty Please with whipped cream, chocolate sauce, sprinkles, and a cherry on top.

No moon shone down on the kingdom of Temeria, King Foltest had been assassinated. The people knew only rumors of what had occured yet two who walked among them knew more than what the rest of the kingdom had heard in whispers. 

“Mother why are we here? We should be with the others.” Aryan La Valette tried reasoning with his mother as they walked through the packed streets. “What could we possibly need from here this night?” 

Mother and Son suddenly came to a stop in front of a run down home. Baroness Maria Louisa La Valette turned to her son and replied, “A witcher.” 

Maria walked up the steps as Aryan walked in confusion behind her. “Geralt is already after the murderer of Foltest.” 

Maria turned to her son as they stood before the front door of the home, “Geralt was not only allied with Foltest but also was seen above his body. Geralt may have saved your life but I don’t trust him worth a crown.” 

“And this witcher? Why can we trust him? Why do we even want someone else to look into Foltest's death? ” Aryan angrily expressed. 

“Because she is someone who saved my life and helped our family long ago.And if we know who killed him we can ensure your sister never meets the same fate.” Maria spoke firmly. 

Aryan eyes widened as his mother knocked upon the houses door. A rivian accented female voice shouted from inside, “Come in.” 

Maria opened the door as Aryan walked in behind her, hand on his sword. 

“Over here.” The same rivian voice spoke again. Walking toward the voice, the door slammed shut behind them and a candle lit by itself. 

A black haired woman sat upon the large couch dressed in simple clothes, scars illuminated in the candlelight. Yellow witchers eyes analyzed mother and son, “I heard from outside, Maria It’s nice to see you again after all these years. Aryan I’d advise you to take your hand off your sword, unless you’d rather lose that hand.” 

Aryan quickly took his hand off his sword. Maria looked to the Witcher before pulling a satchel off her back and holding it out to the female witcher. “Everything known about Foltest's death as well as an advanced payment.” 

Standing up to her full height take the bag Aryan then noticed how tall and muscular in physique she was, “What’s the fastest ship currently in harbor?” 

Aryan thought for a moment before answering, “Probably the Striga. I don’t know who Captains it, but I know it’s leaving tonight.” 

The witcher grunted in reply as she walked toward a chest he previously hadn’t seen upon walking into the room. Setting the satchel atop the chest and opening it she looked inside. All Aryan could see were her broad shoulders as she surveyed the contents within. 

“My work is cut out for me. I’ll take the job. But I have to warn the two of you. Don’t trust Nilfgaard just don’t. I’ve known many who’ve lost lives to due deals and bargains they’ve made with that band of liars.” The Witcher spoke with a sense of concern and memorialized resentment to Aryan and Maria. 

“Thank you Arlynn. Good Hunting.” Maria expressed before turning to her son. “Come Aryan, let’s leave the Witcher must prepare.” She softly ordered to her son as they opened the door and left Arlynn to her own devices. 

Moving the satchel off the chest and onto the floor, digging inside she retrieved the medallion at the bottom of the chest. Slowly draping the heavy chain around her neck and letting the medallion fall onto her chest. Candle light reflected off the bear head medallion as she stared at the weapons within. 

“Let the hunt begin.” Arlynn, The Great Bear of Faroe smirked.


	2. The Bear and The Striga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So for a brief explanation, Arlynn is a bit older than Geralt but she's not older than Vesemir. Also, I like writing morally dubious characters better than just straight up good guys.

Captain Jonathan Mayhew of the Striga sat, slouched on a crate beside his boat drinking vodka from his flask. His crew was getting ready to leave in a few hours for its next route. He didn’t know whether or not it would be their last voyage together, so he sat in the moonlight hoping to savor the sea air for the last time. Yet a cloaked stranger making their way down the dock caught his eye. As the figure neared he began to see moonlight glinting off of the two metal hilts on their broad shoulders.

“What the fuck is a Witcher doing ‘ere?” Captain Mayhew thought aloud.

As he surveyed the Witcher the Captain began to feel an abrupt sense of panic and dread as he realized the Witcher was now walking directly toward him. Straightening himself out as The Witcher neared him. Golden cat like eyes searing into his blue eyes from beneath the black cloak.

“You the Captain of this ship?”

‘Yes-yes m’am. Captain John Mayhew at your-your service.” He spoke nervously, shocked that a female witcher was standing before him. The Witcher’s medallion was also different than what he thought it would be as well, it was shaped like that of a bear’s head. Not a cat or a wolf, but a bear why was it a bear?

He was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of a coin purse. “How much for you to take me to Flotsam?” The Witcher asked as she held the coin purse in her armored hand.

“I can’t miss, port is blocked by some kind of monster. But if you’re aiming to help rid of that fuckin thing, I can take you close to Flotsam and use a smaller boat to get ashore. Now Friend Witcher can I get yer name?” The captain held out his flask of vodka to her.

Taking the flask from him with a grunt she put the flask to her and took a deep swig before handing it back to him, “Arlynn, now how much for the ride?”

“Only that fuckin whoreson in the harbor dead.I’m losing money because Flotsam is out of comission. ” Captain Mayhew said with a grin, as new hope began to burn in his breast. Perhaps this would not be his last voyage after all.

“Really? Well then Captain I’m happy to make your accquaintance. When do we set off?” Arlynn asked with a smirk on her lips.

“They’ll be needin one more hour I reckon. Then after that I can get you to Flotsam in a matter of hours. A trip that’d take lesser sailors a day. You can sit up on deck. Lads won’t mind you one bit, less they want me to rip ‘em a new arsehole.”

Arlynn chuckled and walked past him toward his ship. She stopped for a second as she watched his crew milling about before walking aboard. It’d been a while since she’d been on a ship, the last time was returning from Skellige only to learn that a madman had ravaged Vizima and the legendary Geralt of Rivia had risen from the grave to vanquish him. She sat down on a crate below the crows nest removing the weapons from her back and placing them directly next to her as leaned back against the wooden pillar, with only her cloak protection from the soaked wood. Shutting her yellow eyes to the world as she focused on tuning the voices of his crew out and only focused on her breathing. Slipping easily into a state just between wakefulness and slumber. The smell of the ocean salt brought forth a memory that played behind her eyelids.

 

_Living on the shores of Undvik she could always recall the strange contrasts of the beautiful island. Cold blue ocean air and fiery orange forges. Sea salt on the shore and cooking meat in the fireplace. Her parents were no different in their_ contrasts _. Him the rough warrior turned skilled and her the sadness filled noblewoman turned patient cook. They were said to be a blessed family, that Freya had lain her hands upon them. Yet as_ easily _as her accent had gone so too had the blessings gracious Freya had left them._

 

 

“Arlynn, We’re taking off!” Captain Mayhews voice shook her from her meditative state. As she opened her eyes she saw the crew ready to take off and sat forward on the crate.

Arlynn watched as the crew of the Striga hurried about as they lowered sails and loosened the fastening on the oars. “Ready Captain!” A crewmen shouted. Captain John Mayhew nodded as crewmen immediately began to row out of the Temerian harbor.

Arlynn’s golden eyes peered from beneath her dark cloak as the Temerian harbor began to grow smaller and smaller. As other Captains and crews drunkenly stumbled toward ships, Some with scantily clad women in tow. She watched as they passed other ships each one different in design and aesthetic.

“Miss Arlynn?” A young male voice nervously asked. The Witcher turned to see a red haired young boy with freckles framing his young amber eyes standing just before her, dressed in peasant clothes.

“Just Arlynn is fine little one.”

The young boy hopped up beside her on the crate and stared up into her golden eyes curiously, “I was wonderin whats it like as a Witcher? It any worth it?”

“Depends on who you ask little one. Some of my bretheren would say yes, others no. But I will say this The Witcher’s path is no easy one, but it has its perks.”

The young boy stared at her in awe before he hopped down off the crate and went back to his duties on deck. Arlynn watched him go with a sad sense of nostalgia. Two centuries ago she’d been that young and that curious. Exploring the world with eyes filled with childlike wonder.

Shaking her head from her nostalgic reverie, Arlynn knew the past was a very dangerous thing for a witcher to get lost within. Especially one that had managed to survive as long as she had, the only others she’d ever met had all been centuries younger.

Golden eyes saw the rising orange sunlight peeking through the clouds. Had it really been that long out on the water? She really was getting old.

“Witcher! We’re ere!” Captain Mayhew called as he stood next to the loading boat.

Arlynn took a deep breath before standing up and hefting her weapons from the floor to their rightful place, strapped to her back. Walking to the Captain with a smirk on her lips as the excitement of the hunt to come swept through her. The Kingslayers head would be hers, regardless of whether it was Geralt of Rivia or not.

Now the hunt truly began.


	3. The Wolf and The Bear meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys think I should add previews to the summaries up here? I think I just might start doing that. Kind of like this.
> 
> “My, my, my is that a little songbird I hear? Up in a tree, watching dear little ol me.”

Bedelia patrolled the woods of Flotsam, elven bow in hand as she ran through the trees. Things had been strange in her Scoia’tael commando lately. 

First the Commander let in the Vatt’ghern, they killed a king, and then the Gwynbleidd came with the the other dhoine. Even stranger was that Iorveth seemed to have some sort of bigger plan that no one else seemed to notice. Why was the rest of her commando so unwilling to question the Commander? 

Her questioning reverie was broken as her green eyes were laid upon a broad figure in a dark cloak. What made her heart skip however was the two gigantic weapons strapped to the cloaked figures back. 

One was a steel warhammer, one wrapped in black leather and inscribed with what she could only be strange symbols. 

The other a sheathed greatsword that seemed as tall and as wide as a juvenile tree. 

“My, my, my is that a little songbird I hear? Up in a tree, watching dear little ol me.” 

Bedelia’s heart stopped as the cloaked womans menacing words rang out through the trees like the howl of a wolf growing ever nearer. 

“Is the shadowy Scoia’tael frightened of an old woman like me? Well aren’t you clever.” 

Bedelia grabbed an arrow from her quiver and notched it ready to shoot the woman in the heart. This woman had to be completely insane or was far more dangerous to the commando than what she already appeared to be. 

Suddenly the cloaked figure turned and suddenly cast something that threw her from the safety of the top of the tree. Sending her falling all the way down to the forest floor. 

Bedelia quickly got up and grabbed the arrow she’d had notched before being pushed out of the tree. Quickly notching it back into place she moved to the tree trunk and peered out from behind it to see if the cloaked woman was still there. Bedelia’s heart nearly stopped when she saw nothing but empty forest before her. 

A hand wrapped itself around her throat and suddenly Bedelia was slammed back against the tree trunk. She tried to stab at her attacker with the arrow in her hand yet the cloaked figure grabbed her by the wrist and forced the arrow from her hand. As it clattered to the forest floor the Scoia’tael archer felt more fear than she’d ever felt in her thirty years of life. She looked into the eyes of her attacker as she struggled for breath and saw the eyes of a Vatt’ghern staring back at her. As the hand on her throat relaxed, the Vatt’ghern menacingly smirked at her. 

“Now little Songbird, what can you tell me about the Kingslayer?” 

The afternoon sun of the Flotsam tradepost shone down on Geralt’s back as he walked through the town toward Lobinden. He thought of Triss’s words and of the Kayran’s magically induced condition. He wondered if the one who was responsible for the Kayran’s cancer was Síle was the mage responsible for the Kayran and if she was here to clean up her mess. 

Yet his thoughts were interrupted by an arrogant voice that cut through the afternoon haze as he was greeted by a man dressed in meager armor, “Well, well I had an inkling and it didn’t disappoint me. It was a long voyage to this cesspit but it’s about to make sense. Foltest’s killer, live and in person. How are you? Happy and Healthy?” 

“Can’t complain.” 

“I am delighted really,but you see it’s a long way back to Vizima and I’d rather not dawdle. I spent a lot of time looking for you-” The would be bounty hunter’s snarling words were cut off by a crossbow bolt suddenly sticking out from between his eyes. 

The man collapsed to the ground as his comrades looked on in shock, they looked around for a possible assailant. 

Suddenly a woman in a dark cloak and two weapons strapped to her back walked up toward the commotion. As she walked forward toward them Geralt saw a small crossbow in the figures hand and he knew the woman had killed the would be bounty hunter. He saw her quickly put it back on what was most likely a weapons belt before stopping just before one of the would be bounty hunter’s comrades. 

“Walk away or your blood will soak these stones.” The woman spoke in a cold and even tone, her rivian accent making them sound colder. 

“Who-” The man’s comrade tried to defiantly snarl but was cut off by the woman raising her head and looking him directly in his eyes. Revealing golden witchers eyes that held his stare with a cold and calculating anger that chilled the man’s comrade to his bones.

“Ya know what lads let’s go get a drink yeah? Yeah?” The would be bounty hunters comrade looked to his friends for reassurance as they nodded in a united sense of fear. 

As the would be bounty hunters comrades walked away from their comrades corpse and their would be bounty, Geralt looked closely at the woman who’d warded them off. 

Upon her armored chest a dark steel bear headed medallion lay. The silver armor she wore was unlike any witchers armor he’d ever seen before. Yet Geralt had to admit the only other witchers he’d met were the ones from his school. 

“Now, Wolf” The other Witcher pulled out a small axe from her equipment belt and held it at her side. “Mind if I join you?”

“Wouldn’t mind the company in the slightest, Bear.”

Geralt walked forward as the other Witcher followed behind him. As they walked through the city he could hear The Bear tossing her axe from hand to hand with a practiced ease behind him. 

“So, Wolf what can you tell me about the Kingslayer? He or she? Short or tall? What can you tell me?” The Bears words were punctuated with the sound of her axe whizzing through the air and being caught by her gauntleted hand. 

“Mountain of meat, scarred and claims I knew him. That’s about all I can tell you.” 

The Bear stopped abruptly behind him and Geralt turned to see what had caused her to stop. Strapping her axe back to her equipment belt she took her hood down revealing black hair braided behind her head. 

“So it really is true. My, my, my Geralt of Rivia you always seem to be the Witcher who finds himself in the deepest of shit.” 

Geralt grunted in reply before deciding to ask, “Mind telling me your name? Unless you want me to keep calling you Bear?” 

“Arlynn of Faroe.” 

“Are you going to stop threatening me now?” 

“We’ll see, Wolf, we’ll see.”


End file.
